


here there be dragons: some dispatches from the sanctuary

by forochel



Series: emo rock dragon nerd [2]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Kim Wonpil & Park Jinyoung (GOT7) are Best Friends, M/M, Minor Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whipped Kang Younghyun | Young K
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: Letters from one (1) Kang Younghyun, Brian to Wonpil over the course of a year, interspersed with snippets of Wonpil's last year at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil
Series: emo rock dragon nerd [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1469570
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	here there be dragons: some dispatches from the sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This work of fiction is based on fictional representations of real people. If you are or know any of these real people, or have a problem with this, please turn back now.
> 
> Every fandom needs a fic set in the Hogwarts universe! This is set in the rough continuity of [my jjp Hogwarts ficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20428334) and starts out with a reference to the events in it, but works as a standalone.
> 
> eta: BIG UP to the usual suspects (bysine & unconscious) for commenting through this -- ever so encouraging!

* * *

Pirimiri —

We have started a band! I think JB may have told JY about it. we took lots of photographs and I told him perhaps put a warning on them. if you know what I mean. I personally do not have any photographs of myself playing —

— sorry this got singed, Roxana got a little curious and hasn't quite learnt flame control yet. also she sneezes. **Don't worry!!!** _[this was underlined several times in thick black ink]_ I'm fine!!! enclosed are photographs of the sanctuary and from the hike we went on (sans dragons). if I started writing about how much I miss you I would never stop so this will have to suffice.

as ever — affectionately yours,

YH

p.s. if you could see your way clear to sending some pumpkin pasties again I would be eternally in your debt

p.p.s not that I am not already of course ♡

\---

At the end of the day, after that entire episode in the Great Hall (which Wonpil had watched with some amusement from the safety of the Hufflepuff table), Wonpil found Jinyoung on a stone bench by the vegetable gardens staring into the middle distance.

"You know" — Wonpil settled down onto the bench next to him — "I'm very glad Jaebeom-hyung sends you these ridiculous things, because then nobody ever notices my own Romanian birds of prey."

Jinyoung cracked a wry smile. "That's because Brian actually owns an owl."

"She's mine now, actually," said Wonpil cheerfully. "And I don't like her to fly such long distances."

There was a long pause as Jinyoung contemplated this announcement. Wonpil did like to shock him out of the funks he fell into.

"Why," asked Jinyoung heavily, "is nobody ever on at you about being di _gus_ tingly domestic?"

Smiling as annoyingly sweetly as he could, Wonpil told him, "Because Jaebeom-hyung's missives are an incredible smokescreen."

Jinyoung turned to look at him. He shook his head and said, "I think your being sorted into Hufflepuff was an error. You should've been in Slytherin with me."

"Oh, well, what's to say people can't change as they grow?" Wonpil burst into giggles at the look on Jinyoung's face. "And maybe _you_ made me this way."

"Me? What about your boyfriend?"

"I met you first." Wonpil poked Jinyoung. "And then because I was with you all the time, Bri-hyung noticed my existence."

That was a baldfaced lie and they both knew it.

Younghyun had been asked by one of Seventh Year Prefects in Slytherin, who'd been asked by one of _his_ colleagues in Hufflepuff, to be friendly with the little lost Firstie in Hufflepuff whose family had only just moved from Korea to England barely a year before.

"Sure." Jinyoung snorted. "Well, have you got time for Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"I have to." Wonpil sighed and leaned his weight back on his hands, kicking his feet up in the air in front of him. "Hyung wants pumpkin pasties, and I think he'd like some of those wine gums from Cranner's too. You know, the Muggle ones they resell at a ridiculous mark-up."

Wonpil had very strong feelings about the availability of Muggle biscuits and sweets in the Wizarding world. Nothing like a chocolate-covered hobnob, in his opinion. But Jinyoung, having been brought up by an entirely magical family, never quite understood — not even after the summer he'd stayed with Wonpil.

There was a fondly wry smile on Jinyoung's face as he shook his head at Wonpil. "All right, so it'll just be a quick one, then. For the best, really. I've got Runes homework for days."

"I can barely keep the two languages I do have straight in my head," said Wonpil. " _And_ spell-Latin. I don't know how you manage all these other dead ones."

"They're not _dead_ if we use them, Pilie — oh, never mind." Jinyoung gave up when he saw Wonpil's grin. "Anyway, you'll have to learn more if you do get onto that course, won't you? In Wales."

"That —" Wonpil let his feet thump back down onto the grass for emphasis "— is a problem for _future_ Wonpil. Now let's go get dinner."

\---

Pilie,

thank you very much for the snacks and the very long letter. nobody else here gets such long letters, not even bjorn whose girlfriend is some sort of nordic skald. possibly she spends her words on her poetry. it's very interesting, nordic magic. please tell me if you would like some recommendations from her. reminds me of what you told me about your harabeoji in Korea, with the pansori magic. and your own studies with Flitwick. which I'm sure you'll be — you _are_ brilliant at. music is sort of magical, isn't it? I sing to the little hatchlings and it seems to help, sometimes, depending on what I sing. they did NOT take to the wyrd sisters. do send a tune or two along. they're getting bored of my repertoire, I think.

by the way: is jinyoung in some sort of strop? Himself has been more prone to injury than usual.

anyway, yesterday we had to move the smaller longhorns — did you know some dragons have to be pastured, like sheep? there's been some sort of infestation of a particularly Romanian pest. no idea how its name is spelt — didn't learn about THOSE in care of magical creatures!

because your letter was so long (thank you again!), I shall endeavour to follow suit [...]

[ _several pages of dragon talk follow, with the occasional observation about the beauty of the Carpathian mountains and his fellow dragon keepers_ ]

Yr obedient servant, &c &c

YH

p.s. Please also give my love to Pororo — wouldn't want her to think I've forgotten her or become an absentee father.

\---

Pororo deposited his parents' latest missive on Wonpil's head (not a Howler, thankfully, nor one of harabeoji's enchanted pansori scrolls) and drifted to a gentle stop on Yugyeom's back, where he'd been bent over scrabbling about in his book bag. She hooted and pecked when he had the temerity to straighten up.

"Argh! Hyung!" Yugyeom complained, hunching over to try and appease her.

Taking pity, Wonpil scooped Pororo up and cooed at her.

"You ought t' stop babying that owl," said Hestia Grimsby in her broad Yorkshire accents. "Tis no owlet, now."

Being a fellow Seventh Year, she remembered of course, when Pororo had arrived.

"What should I name her," Younghyun had asked Wonpil in second year, when he'd received an owl for his thirteenth birthday. The tiny fluffy owlet had arrived by way of Younghyun's older cousin, an Unspeakable who'd been in Hogsmeade on some unspeakable business and popped by the castle to deliver the present.

Wonpil had contemplated the baby owl digging tiny talons into his thigh, more a collection of soft brown-and-beige feathers than an bird. It had been a kindness, then, being allowed to help name the owl.

"Pororo?" he'd murmured uncertainly, stroking a thumb behind one of the owl's ears. Looking up, he'd repeated himself louder. "Pororo!"

Younghyun had looked at him with incomprehension. "...Okay?"

"It's a tv show," Wonpil had explained. "A ... a Muggle tv show, at home. In Korea."

He must have teared up then, because Wonpil remembered Younghyun-hyung developing that particularly panicked look he got whenever Wonpil so much as got faintly glossy-eyed. He'd missed so many things about Korea back when everything in Britain had all still been so new. He'd missed the clear blue skies of winter in Incheon, the food, his grandparents, the porous boundaries between the magical and unmagical Koreas. He'd missed watching television and going to the movies whenever he wanted.

He still did.

"You were so cute," said Hestia. "I remember first year. No wonder Kang just —" she snapped her fingers " — like that."

"I'm not cute." Wonpil pointed at Dowoon. "Dowoonie is cute."

"You will note," Hestia announced to the rest of the table, "how Wonpil did not contest the rest of what I said."

Wonpil felt himself go pink. "Hyu— he didn't, not at — not from the __start__."

"I'm not cute," Dowoon surfaced from his bacon and eggs to pronounce. He had an inexplicably thick Cornish accent, which made everyone boggle the first time they met him.

His parents had apparently moved there because it was the southernmost county and near the sea, just like Busan. Or so the logic had gone. They were told. Dowoon had a knack for storytelling like a sphinx.

"You're the cutest, Dowoonie," Wonpil told him. "My favourite dongsaeng."

"I'm _sixteen_." Dowoon gestured at the cluster of First Years at the far end of the Hufflepuff table. "Those kids are cute."

"I have no idea what you two just said," said Hestia, "but you're both adorable."

"Ah, well." As Dowoon tended to do when he felt overwhelmingly shy, he started drumming, the sound muted against the aged wood of the table. It had been his wand at first -- Professor McGonagall had had a fit when she'd seen it.

"One does not treat one's wand in that manner, Mr Yoon," she had said very sternly, after putting his hands temporarily in stasis. "And you might take an eye out!"

Now at least he never tried drumming with his wand, and the new Charms professor who helped Flitwick with the upper years had taken Dowoon under her wing -- something to do with rhythm and magic.

The conversation turned to Christmas plans, then.

Wonpil hummed absently, tuning the conversation out as he unsealed his parents' letter and started skimming it -- news about his noona, news about his grandparents, news about his parents' shop, and news about -- he almost dropped the letter.

"What is it, hyung?" Dowoon whispered.

"Ah, nothing." Wonpil wasn't sure if he could even explain the way his body felt caught between blanching and flushing all over. "It's just -- it's fine, Dowoonie, thank you."

\---

Good news, darling!!!

** I've managed to get Christmas off!!! **

the Romanians were very understanding when I showed them my reams of letters and said I was wasting away for want of you. well, no, I didn't say exactly that but they do know about your prodigious letters and say I've done well enough (how many times have I saved JB's arse from being burnt — please tell JY I deserve a Prize of Gratitude — possibly one set of those mirrors that the two of them have?) that I get a whole fortnight off!

you weren't sure, the last letter, what your plans for Christmas were. would your parents be very upset if I stole you away for a few days? a week?? don't want to be too greedy. but a little bit greedy would (with hope) be understandable. I've saved up a bit of money (there not being much to spend it on around these parts)

[ _written in a different colour_ ] sorry, had a bit of an emergency and mad time. I've written your parents to ask, hope you don't mind, thought it'd be better if I asked too to be honest. seemed a bit cowardly in retrospect.

and so that I don't entirely disgrace myself with how late this response is, I shall tell you whence the madness but leave out details too gruesome. [ _... a page and a half of a tale of dragon-keeping truly too hair-raising and alarming by half follows, concluded with ..._ ]

well, but that's all over and things could've gone much worse all around, so don't worry too much darling as you can see I've still got all my fingers (and toes and all other extremities and inextremities) so --

Ardently yours, as ever

YH

\---

Wonpil just barely managed __not__ to burst into tears when Younghyun opened the door, smiling so wide that his eyes were creased almost shut and his nose was wrinkling hard.

" _ _Oraenmaniya__ ," he said, because he knew that after all these years Wonpil still felt the most at home in his native tongue, and tugged Wonpil's suddenly strengthless body into his arms.

"Hyung." Wonpil poked thoughtfully at Younghyun's shoulder, after they'd thoroughly said hello and were now curled up atop a thick-piled rug in front of a roaring fire. "You've lost weight."

"The privations of a dragon sanctuary, Wonpilie," Younghyun said lightly. "We lodge in very weathertight log cabins, but the food isn't quite Hogwarts. Or my parents'."

Wonpil frowned and shifted up onto his elbows to look more closely at Younghyun in the flickering, golden light of the fireplace. There were of course Warming Charms built into the cottage's stone walls, and warm bars of low light would spill from rune magic carved into the crossbeams overhead when called upon. But the chief source of light came from the fireplace for now.

At Hogwarts, Younghyun's cheeks had been apple-round with good food and life sheltered, soft with what Wonpil was coming to realise had been the remnants of childhood. After three seasons in Romania, his face had become sharper and weather-worn, his strong bones declaring his entry into adulthood.

Wonpil was abruptly afraid that he would be left behind.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Wonpilie?" Younghyun's voice was light, but he ran his hands up Wonpil's back and shoulders to cup his face. "I'm not going to disappear in a poof."

"No ..." Wonpil sighed and flopped back down. He buried his face in Younghyun's neck.

The hands on his face were displaced; one cupping the back of his head, the other running up and down his spine. "Hey, come on, tell hyung what's wrong."

"Nothing." Wonpil pressed his face further into the warm crook of Younghyun's neck, where everything was dark and safe and smelt faintly of cold wind and woodsmoke. He wanted to draw the blanket they were both under over his head. Over both their heads.

Younghyun's hands stilled. "Are you lying to me?"

He didn't sound angry, was the thing. He sounded worried, and a little sad. The tension in Younghyun's fingers, calluses pressing into Wonpil's skin, said he was scared. So Wonpil nodded. Turned his face enough to whisper an apology. Enough to say " _I missed you_ ". It was the truth.

It hadn't really hit him until they'd lain down before the fireplace and the rush of happiness had ebbed enough for other feelings to wash in the undertow. Wonpil had done so well for the past half a year, but now in the safety of Younghyun's arms he was in danger of being swept away.

"I missed you too, Pilie." Younghyun's voice took a turn for the tender. It had been dizzying for so long, how the quality of his voice changed depending on his mood, what feeling underscored his words. "Every day."

Wonpil hesitated, and then tilted to the side, tugging just enough for Younghyun to get the idea. Roll them both over so that this time he could be the one blanketed, bracketed in warm and close. "Will you ever stop missing me, hyung?"

Even the quality of Younghyun's silence held startlement. Wonpil held his breath.

"Not unless I can see you every day again," said Younghyun at last. He kissed Wonpil on the cheek. "And do this." Another kiss, to the tip of his nose. "And this." Hovering, mischief in the quirk of his bowed lips, he finally dipped to murmur against Wonpil's mouth, "Or this."

\---

9th Feb. 2012

Pilie—

we didn't have much time so I want to say it again: I'm sorry for worrying you so, sweetheart, and for not writing as soon as I should've, and a hundred other things. but I am glad the mirrors worked in the end. we do get some bad storms out here. it's all very transylvanian. you're right about weather reports and a wizarding internet, of course. the nearest town to the sanctuary is mostly Muggle, and I've found an internet cafe that charges exorbitant rates, but of course the problem is getting down the mountains in bad weather in the first place. one could try riding a Shortsnout, but well —

the dragons are mostly hibernating now, though they're all very warm those great lazy lumps, and it makes it very hard to get them into better shelter out of the way of the snow. I almost want to just pitch a tent next to some of them because they give out such heat. but the ground is all wet and muddy from snowmelt and that would be very unpleasant.

anyway: this probably won't reach you in time but hopefully my parcel order from Edinburgh has — Sungjin swore he'd get all those biscuits and things that you like to you. I hope you have had, or are having, or will have a happy Valentine's Day, despite everything. thank you for your forbearance and patience and sweet generosity, and I know you're probably going pink and folding this up now and burying your face in your eggs and toast. or have the Elves finally been persuaded to attempt rice?

ALSO! conditional offer from the Cantre'r Gwaelod! well ddone you! see what I did there — or should I not make any welsh jokes, if you're going to be amongst them?

I understand about visiting with your harabeoji. summer's dreadfully busy for us dragon keepers too; lots of hatching seasons converging and something about the sun makes them all very excited, apparently. and there's a bit of a problem with poachers — not that the dragons don't fend very well for themselves — but it's always a bit of a bother trying to get them to trust us again, after. can't blame the poor things, though, can you?

anyway I might be able to get some time off over the summer to visit Korea, if you don't mind me hanging about. they must do portkeys to Korea in Romania. I've only visited a few times -- the last time was in summer before Sixth Year. you were there too, but we only realised after the fact. what a terrible year that was. but — Korea! I just remember being miserably hot and sticky all the time - though I am sure it will be much more bearable with you, love.

_hotly and stickily yours,_

_YH_

\---

The library rustled with the turning of paper, the hushed sounds of nibs scratching against parchment. The hush was occasionally punctuated by someone accidentally dropping something, a cough, a particularly egregious crack as someone stretched.

Wonpil was one of the NEWT students who had colonised the library; it seemed like in a blink of an eye his final term at Hogwarts had disappeared. It had been Christmas -- what a lovely dream -- and then the snows had started melting away into spring; the Giant Squid emerged from its hibernation; and all the professors pushed the Seventh Years into higher gear.

"I wish I'd decided to hyper-specialise like Jaebeom," Jinyoung sighed.

Wonpil threw a crumpled up bit of parchment paper at him. "You could still change your mind."

Jinyoung's housemate Oke threw the both of them a vicious look. "Go whinge outside, if you must. Some of us are trying to memorise the six applications of Durdhara's Fifth Theorem, here."

"Aren't there nine?" Wonpil asked. He flipped through his notes rapidly and groaned. "Oh, no, that's her _Third_."

"Could be nine." Jinyoung shrugged. "Not like there _couldn't_ be three more. Someone just has to invent them."

"They'd better not," said Oke darkly. "At least not til _after_ our exam."

Wonpil let out a peal of laughter before he could help it. He clapped his hands apologetically to his mouth, but it was too late. Madame Petrie, who had come down from the Orkneys to take over care of the library, was already giving him a beady-eyed look.

Jumping to his feet, Wonpil started gathering his things into his backpack. "Let's go for a walk, Jinyoungie. All my blood's just going to my feet, I've been sitting for so long."

"I may not have grown up with Muggle science, Wonpil-ah" -- Jinyoung followed him anyway -- "but I'm fairly certain that's not how it works."

"It's circulation!" Wonpil put a book he'd been referencing back on one of the reshelving trolleys. " _Harabeoji_ always says that's why I've got cold feet."

"Mmmhmm." Jinyoung had an arch look on his face as they exited the library. "And what does Brian say?"

Wonpil flushed hard enough that his feet wouldn't be cold, probably. "Nothing. He hasn't said anything."

\---

just a quick note so's I can piggyback off JB's bird (undoubtedly it will arrive with a full Riverdance production, if what I've seen of his preparatory charmwork is any indication) — more to come later...

of course I'd be delighted to have you here, if you're quite sure it wouldn't be a bother to stop by on your way east. delighted isn't the right word for how i dropped my toast into my tea; I don't think there is a word in any language for what just made it feel like ... like nothing else; Wonpil-ah, the way you make me feel defies comparison. sometimes, sometimes when I ache so much for want of you, I take Luminita out flying. don't tell anyone, but sometimes she flies so far up I get dizzy with it: the cold, the way the air thins, and it steals my breath the same way the thought of you does.

ANYWAY. time is running out, by which I mean JB is tapping his foot right next to me. if nothing else, believe that I believe in you. you'll smash the NEWTS and that special project. also look forward to your visit, please bring: [ _a hastily scribbled list of snacks including Chocolate cauldrons, salted taffy from Honeydukes, the charm-preserved egg ppang from magical New Malden in an increasingly illegible scrawl follows_ ]

yr ardent servant,

YH.

\---

Wonpil was packing in his bedroom when Jinyoung apparated in with a pop

"Fuck!" Wonpil exclaimed, almost dropping the glass box full of beef short rib stew that his mum had made and then charmed to last for Younghyun. "I hate it when people do that. Manners!"

"Would you like me to telephone ahead?" asked Jinyoung drily.

Waving his phone — now no longer an inert hunk of various precious minerals and metal — at Jinyoung, Wonpil said, "Haven't you heard of _Katalk_?"

It was the primary means by which Wonpil chatted with his cousins and his sister, who had returned to Korea for graduate school. Every Hogsmeade weekend, he had a terrible backlog of messages to plough through in the middle of the sole meadow far away enough from the village that there was minimal magical interference. He had an agreement with the farmer, who had wifi set up.

"No," said Jinyoung, whose family in Korea was so preposterously pureblooded as to not have touched a phone without a rotary dial despite the march of time. "We've been over this. Is this argument how you went to spend the remainder of our time together?"

"Why" — Wonpil tucked the glass box carefully in between a stack of sweatpants and a folded towel — "does everyone talk like I'm going away forever?"

Various people had popped by for visits before Jinyoung, including Dowoonie — who had rather gratifyingly prevailed upon his older sister to Side-Along him up from Cornwall. Invariably, they spoke as though he was going to be in Korea to the end of days, and not just the summer.

"Well, then after _that_ you're heading off to the Drowned Lands, which may as well be in another dimension."

Wonpil bit his lip thoughtfully. "It is, sort of."

Just then, a shriek arose from the garden. Through the open window could be heard the beating of wings characteristic to the Caucasian Hawk, and the screech of either an avian predator or vastly annoyed mother.

"Oh dear," said Wonpil dolefully. "I hope this one hasn't tried to eat Pororo."

"KIM WONPIL!!!" bellowed his mother in extremely irate Korean. "WHAT IS THIS HAWK DOING IN MY KKAETNIP?"

\---

I hope this catches you before your Portkey goes, Pilie. sorry about the bird; she's the closest I could scrounge up at such short notice. Christmas feels like it was a geological age ago. am I writing you a nonsense letter because you are only days away and I am an impatient beast? possibly. if all magic starts at intention I'm trying not to wish too hard about time compression, just in case I do achieve something quite terrible. but I do have a wonderful surprise for you and cannot wait to tell you in person, preferably in bed, clothing optional. ;)

\---

Wonpil stepped on the golden shimmering path out of the space-time pocket that the Cantre'r Gwaelod tucked itself into, heard the golden bells toll sweetly, and abruptly was deposited on the sandy shores of Aberdyfi.

"That probably never gets any less bizarre," someone said.

Wonpil swung around. There was Younghyun, straightening up from where he'd been slouching against a bit of pier, untucking his hands from his coat pockets and grinning at him.

"Hyung!" Wonpil cried and hurried to him. Wonpil hurried straight _into_ him, in fact, smashing into Younghyun's chest, feeling the vibration of his laughter as he picked Wonpil up by the waist and swung him about. "Hyung, how did you —"

"I bought this old bloke by the name of Ifor a pint down the pub. I don't know if he was actually a wizard or not," Younghyun added thoughtfully. "But he told me about the story of the drowned lands and having seen travellers arrive on these golden shores of Aberdyfi Resort Town. Specifically on the beach under the pier. It used to be different in the 70s, apparently, but I'm told he's been drinking straight since then."

"Oh, _Ifor_." Wonpil had been put back down on his feet, but was loathe to let go and so remained on his toes, arms wrapped stubbornly around Younghyun's neck. "There's — he's a bit of both. Not a squib, but not magical either. I don't know. Things are a little blurrier here. In Wales. You must've noticed it too, on Ynys Môn?"

"Yeah." The smile on Younghyun's face ticked up a little. "I keep thinking maybe the dragons will stumble into a pocket dimension and then we're fucked."

"I mean, there could be one just silly with dragons. Dragons and missing socks."

"And Drake will rise from his hammock, will he?"

Wonpil rocked back down onto his heels and gave Younghyun a look. "You _know_ I don't understand all these local references."

"Sorry, sorry." Younghyun kissed him on the forehead. "Just a bit of poetry from the Muggles. He's not an actual dragon. Drake, I mean. I think. Oh, here's a fact for you: Kit Marlowe wasn't one, did you know that?"

"Don't know who that is either," said Wonpil tartly. "Though I've been learning a lot about the Welsh bardic tradition."

"Oh? Are there magical, um, what're they called ..."

" _Eisteddfod_." Wonpil pronounced it carefully, the Welsh consonants still something he was getting used to. "And sort of, they happen ... alongside. Or, they are one and the same, because the magic is in the land and the poetry and song is of the land and — and I'm boring you."

"Never." Younghyun nuzzled their noses together. "I'm listening. I'm just also peckish."

" _I'm_ hungry," said Wonpil, pulling away. "And we're going to be late if we don't leave now."

"Can't have that. I don't want your mother to be pissed off at me."

"Unlikely. I think you won her heart when you ate two bowls of her mandu."

"Well, just to be polite then."

Wonpil snorted, but let Younghyun pull him back in close, in preparation for the Side-Along. "Okay, hyung, let's go home then."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I am very fond of Cymru, if it hasn't been clear enough. :3 Also, [this is the poem](https://www.bartleby.com/library/song/707.html) that Younghyun/Brian makes reference to when he talks about Drake (Sir Francis, not the rapper) rising from his hammock. oh! and the shimmering path & golden bells chiming are very much borrowed (with much love and respect) from Susan Cooper's imaginations wrt the Cantref Gwaelod.
> 
> If you've made it to the end, thank you so much reading! I hope you enjoyed. Please kudos, let me know how this made you feel, and [retweet](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1332370141565366274)! Until next time.


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